


to find a kiss of yours

by MayQueen517



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, obligatory post-movie Malta fic, proud member of Soft Bitch Incorporated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayQueen517/pseuds/MayQueen517
Summary: Post-Movie, going back to Malta (because of course).===Joe can't help himself; he presses his mouth to Nicky's, warm and plush before he drags his lips down. He follows the line of Nicky's jaw, leaving one last kiss below Nicky's ear as if it is a treasure map and this is the 'x'.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 31
Kudos: 274





	to find a kiss of yours

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I've had one or two lines of this stuck in my head since I first saw the movie and last night, I decided to finally put them down here. This is sheer tender fluff and a little smut. I've been voracious in reading in the pairing and I just love these two. 
> 
> Title is from an [untitled poem](https://poets.org/poem/find-kiss-yours) by Federico Garcia Lorca, which I just loved for this. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine!

The Malta safehouse is as close to a homebase as Joe and Nicky have. It is the place where they store most of their prized possessions; the place that they retreat to time and time again. The afternoon sun is bright, as bright as the love Joe has for Nicky, who tilts his head to the rays, a smile tugging at his lips. Joe can't help himself; he presses his mouth to Nicky's, warm and plush before he drags his lips down. He follows the line of Nicky's jaw, leaving one last kiss below Nicky's ear as if it is a treasure map and this is the 'x'.

"Do you think they're okay?" Joe asks, soft and curious, following Nicky as they put their bags down into the main room. Nicky hums, placing his longsword on the provided hooks above the fireplace.

"They will call if they need us," Nicky says, tracking Joe's movements as he places his scimitar below it. The house needs airing and Joe resolves to open the windows, eager for the lazy heat of Malta after London. He thinks of London and thinks of the cold in his bones when Nicky took too long to wake. He pulls Nicky into his arms, holding him close and breathing in the scent of travel layered over Nicky's own.

"And what about you?" Joe asks, pressing his face to Nicky's hair. The tension of the last months sliding away in the comfort of Nicky's embrace. Nicky presses his forehead against Joe's neck.

"What about me?" Nicky murmurs, the soft puff of his breath a reassurance after London.

"What do you need?"

"Just you, my love," Nicky says, pulling back to meet Joe's eyes. It takes his breath sometimes (all the time), the amount of love that resides in him for this man after so many years. Joe kisses him, he can't help kissing him, the man he's loved for nearly as long as he's walked the Earth. They sway in place, trading kisses lazily, as though they were new lovers. There's never not going to be a thrill to hold this man in his arms, to know that they belong to one another.

Joe sighs into Nicky's lips, sharing breath as he backs Nicky to the couch. Nicky flops down, looking up at him with love all over his face. Joe sinks into his lap, pressing close. His eyes sting with tears, prickling as he thinks back to his love, far too quiet and still. Fear shudders through him, catching up in full months later. He winds his arms around Nicky, holding tight and pressing his lips over his face and his cheeks, ending at his lips. The planes of his face are familiar and welcome as he tastes Nicky as he has for hundreds of years.

"What's wrong, hayati?" Nicky murmurs, pushing his hands under Joe's shirt. His hands are warm and the beam of late afternoon sunlight hazes the room around them. Nicky's touch grounds him as Joe surrenders to the fear that has sat upon his shoulders.

"I close my eyes and I see you taking too long to wake," Joe says, combing his fingers through Nicky's hair, cupping his face to rest their foreheads together. Nicky inhales and exhales slowly, Joe copies him, syncing their breathing.

"It is not my time," Nicky says softly, tilting his head to kiss Joe. They kiss slow and soft, tongues curling around each other as Nicky presses his hands to Joe's sides. "My time is for you and when that time is done, we go together."

"You can't promise that," Joe says, laughing sadly. Nicky wraps his arms around Joe tight, holding onto him as if they were adrift at sea.

"You can't promise that it isn't true," Nicky says. He sounds so reasonable that all Joe can do is kiss him until they're both gasping for air and grinding against one another.

"Here or the bed?" Nicky asks, rolling his hips against Joe's. Sparks fly behind Joe's lids as he presses closer, biting at the smooth line of Nicky's neck. A soft burr of stubble rasps against Joe's lips, a missed spot from the morning's shave. Joe swipes his tongue across it, eager for the taste of Nicky to linger on his tongue as if this were a wine tasting.

"Bed," Joe says, "I want to fuck you where we can hear the ocean."

"You old romantic," Nicky says, a secretive smile on his face that Joe has to taste. They laugh against each other, the relieved laughter of those who have cheated death - or, at least, cheated death's permanency. They make their way to the bedroom, shedding clothes and gathering their supplies.

Joe forces the window open, cursing to himself in half a dozen different languages. It comes open with a screech and a rain of paint flakes. He dusts his hands off, welcoming the scent and sound of the ocean as Nicky presses himself to Joe's back. Nicky's arms wrap around his chest, hands resting over his heart and his forehead presses against the knobs of Joe's spine.

Secure in Nicky’s arms, Joe feels the last vestiges of London's fear leave him. Joe sighs, a stuttering thing that leaves peace in its wake as Nicky peppers kisses along Joe’s neck and shoulders. Nicky walks them to the bed, both laughing as they fight over the lube, Nicky's eyes bright and so _alive_ that Joe has to press a kiss to each lid.

"Like this," Nicky says, rolling over so that his back presses against Joe's chest; so close that Joe can feel Nicky's ribs expand with each breath. It's second nature to open Nicky up, one finger and then two. Nicky murmuring in Italian as his hips rock back into Joe, head turning back to seek Joe for a kiss.

Joe bites at his lips, kissing him harder as he slides a third slick finger into Nicky. He swallows Nicky's moan as he crooks his fingers, Nicky's breath hitching as Joe ruts his cock into the small of Nicky's back.

"Please," Nicky says, shivering all over.

As the sun sinks below the horizon, Joe takes Nicky into his arms as he has a million sunsets and sunrises before.

These are the times that Joe loves best; the times when he can luxuriate in Nicky's skin. The soft skin at his ribs and the pebbled skin of his nipples and the sounds he makes as Joe fucks into him. Little punched out gasps, Nicky's head dropping back onto Joe's shoulder. They curl around each other in a mimicry of sleep, rocking together and chasing that white-hot spiral that brings them closer and closer to being one body.

Joe sinks his teeth into the delicate skin of Nicky's neck, tasting salt and sweat and it's like so many other times before in their long, long lives. Nicky sobs on a breath, squirming back, as if he can get closer.

"More?" Joe murmurs, loving the way Nicky whines and reaches behind himself to tangle his hand into Joe's curls. Each touch feels like when Nicky whispers his love against Joe's lips, like a benediction and a plea all at the same time.

"Please, Joe, oh please," Nicky gasps, and Joe hums his pleasure against Nicky's neck, reveling in the shudder that wracks him. He lifts Nicky's thigh higher until he's slamming into Nicky, their pleasure catching up to them. It's like a gift, like the first time Nicky pressed his lips to Joe's, all those ages ago.

"Touch yourself, habibi," Joe says, pleasure coiling in his stomach, sweat slicking his hand against Nicky's thigh. Nicky curls a hand around his cock, a whine slipping out as Joe fucks him harder. Nicky sobs hard, just once, on something that sounds like Joe's name as he comes all over his chest, stomach, and Joe's arm that anchors them together.

This surrender, the way he goes slack in Joe's arms as Joe rushes towards completion, is more precious than all the sunrises and sunsets he has seen in his long life. Joe comes with a muffled groan, driving into Nicky as if this time they could become one flesh like all of their marriage vows have said.

The crash of the ocean outside is like the blood rushing in Joe's ears, forehead nuzzled into Nicky's neck, their panting breaths the only sound in the room. They come down slowly, Joe easing out of Nicky before his love rolls over, pressing their chests together.

Nicky reaches up, cupping Joe's cheek in a gentle, warm hand; his thumb swipes along the skin under Joe's eye. Joe leans his head into the touch, eyes slipping closed as they curl together on the pillows, foreheads pressed together.

"Sono qui, Yusuf. Sono qui," Nicky murmurs, lips brushing Joe's. With a contented sigh, Joe curls around him, head pressed to Nicky's chest. They draw the sheets over them, the night breeze cooling the room as Nicky's heartbeat lulls Joe to sleep as it has these past centuries.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations (if they need correcting, please let me know!):  
> Hayati: My Life  
> Habibi: My Love  
> Sono qui: I'm here
> 
> \--------
> 
> I'm always happy to chat and take prompts on Tumblr at [CactusDragon517](https://cactusdragon517.tumblr.com/)!


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